


Scenarios: Prison-1

by adcgordon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adcgordon/pseuds/adcgordon
Summary: A wife can handle a lot.  But when her husband is in prison, she's trying to raise his son on the run and she reaches the end of her rope, what does she do?  Felicity Smoak Queen asks for help from the one woman who can make things happen.





	Scenarios: Prison-1

**Author's Note:**

> We've all had ideas about Oliver's prison sentence and Felicity's sudden push into the world of single parenting. Let's not forget, although she and Oliver have been together for several years, they are still newly weds, attempting to have a wedded bliss of some sort in the middle of indictments, playing mom and dad and yet still trying to save their city.  
> This is one of the ideas that has hit me. Felicity reaches the end of her rope in more ways than one and finally decides to ask for the practically unthinkable.  
> Please let me know what you think. I've got a couple of other ideas in the works as well. And who knows, I might share them before Season 7 begins! LOL  
> #GiveOlicityTheirDessert2k18 #OlicityWithdrawals #KTOSS (Keep the Olicity Ship Sailing! <3)

**Scenarios: Prison-1**

Soon after her father left their family, Felicity had determined to never feel dependent on a specific person.  She had especially shied away from that dependence when it came to male figures.  To say that she _needed_ a man was something she swore to herself that she would never admit. 

Her college relationship hadn’t changed that view.  She made her bed with Cooper, literally, and slept in it, with him.  But she didn’t _need_ him.  Even when she shared hesitant ‘I love you’s’ with him, her heart wasn’t in the phrase. 

In the few moments she had said those words to her school-time hacking partner Felicity was intelligent enough to realize that neither of them truly meant the emotion.  They were words, used to try and convey that they cared, somewhat, about each other and appreciated the physicality.

The past half-decade had presented her with a few more grown-up options… Ray Palmer, Billy Malone, and _Oliver Queen_. 

While the potential had been there for true love and need with all three men, only one of them made her heart palpitate when she thought of him.  Only one of them had opened up her heart in a way that she had never expected.  Only one had sent her mind spinning more times than she could count; left her crying because of how much she _needed_ him; and still strengthened her because he needed her just as much.

That’s why she had married Oliver Queen.  That’s why she was attempting to raise _his_ son while he was in prison.  And it was the reason she was so angry with him that she couldn’t see straight on most days when she thought of him – which was nearly 24/7.

Oliver had promised her, upon his exit to the supermax facility, that she - his wife - and his son would only be in ARGUS protective custody until the Dragon was apprehended and Star City was safe for them to return. 

Felicity was fuming that month number three was beginning and yet the super-bad-guy was still in the wind.

She was sick of protective custody.  She was proud of William’s ability to handle the situation and her, but she was growing tired and frustrated at being a single parent.  Oliver had chosen to _protect_ her and William by turning himself in to the FBI.  While she knew his prison sentence was far from any cake walk, she wondered if he realized the _hell_ that he had left them in, in his absence.

The only communication they had had from him for two months was through John or Lyla.  Usually it came in the form of a hug along with an _“Oliver says to tell you that he loves you.”_

The prior week, Felicity knew she had finally shown her hand when Diggle – being the best father-figure that he possibly could – shared that line with her over coffee at the diner where Felicity was being forced to work.

_“If OLIVER wants to tell me that he loves me, then OLIVER should be here telling me.  I’m beginning to wonder if he’s really telling you this or if you and Lyla are just trying to keep the Olicity ship afloat because you’re feeling sorry for us.  Do you know how hard it is to try and have a marriage with a man that you can’t see or touch or even talk to?  I don’t have a husband right now, John, I have a few pictures to share with MY 12 year old son who barely knows his father.  I’m done telling William that everything will be fine.  How much more pretending do I have to do?”_

Her voice had raised enough at the corner table that a fellow waitress had walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder.  Felicity went to the bathroom to calm herself and when she returned John was gone.

The next day Lyla paid a visit to the small apartment that Felicity and William were sharing.  The younger woman had again expressed her strong displeasure at being stuck in the situation because of decisions her husband had made.

This time, in the _comforts_ of her home, with an additional female presence, Felicity’s tears had flowed even more freely as her volume increased and her pitch reached a level that only another woman could understand.

_“I’m not cut out for this.  I changed my mind.  Lyla, I want to go home.  I don’t want to be Oliver’s wife anymore.  I don’t want to be Megan Kuttler, single mom in protective custody with my 12 year old son.  I want to go back to being Felicity Smoak.  I’ll go back to the boring IT department in the basement of Palmer Tech and be happy to chew on my red pens and fix whatever mindless issues the idiot executives can’t figure out on their own.”_

Lyla reached a hand across the back of the couch and rested her palm over Felicity’s hand.  _“You can’t go back,”_ she offered Felicity a sad smile.  _“You know, Felicity, as well as I’ve known for years now, we stepped into the lives of these men we love.  We married them, faults and all.  You are only saying these things because you’re tired, you’re frustrated and you’re still so hurt by Oliver’s confession that you don’t know what to do.  You’ve had months to let all of this sink in and yet nothing has changed for the better.”_

_“I don’t even know if he’s really dead or alive, Lyla!”_ Felicity pulled her hand away from John’s wife and stood from the couch, unable to find a way to use anything except her loud voice to express her thoughts and feelings. _“I haven’t heard his voice in TWO MONTHS.  Have you?  Have you actually heard from him or is he sending you notes through the prison warden?  How do you…how do you know this isn’t exactly what he wants?  Being in prison got him away from all this sh--.  He can sit in his cell and claim to love me and William and yet we are the ones out here attempting to live our lives without him.  He might as well be dead.  How different would it be?”_

Lyla watched her closely from her seated position.  She waited for a break in Felicity’s tirade and sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She clasped her hands together and took a deep breath.  Lyla could see the tears streaming down Felicity’s face and could feel the ache in her heart.

_“You’ve been through that before, Felicity, thinking that he’s dead,”_ Lyla offered quietly.  _“Would you rather go through that heartbreak again, or at least have a little bit of solace with even the tiniest confirmations that he is still alive and he still loves you?”_ She opened her palms to physically question Felicity’s thoughts.

Felicity sobbed at the memories.  More than once she had been through the hell of wondering whether or not Oliver was dead.  She wondered just how much scar tissue was in her heart now because of the times it had broken – over him. 

_“I don’t want to love him anymore,”_ she looked at her slightly older counterpart with a tear-stained face, voice hampered by emotions and the look of a lost young woman.

Lyla stood up and closed the few steps between them wrapping her arms around Felicity and letting her finally shed the deep emotions that she had held in for months.

_“You don’t have a choice in that,”_ Lyla pulled away and gently held Felicity’s face between her palms.  _“Felicity, you fell in love with Oliver before you knew it, before you wanted to realize it or admit it.  You fought it.  But you fell in love with him because you were meant to.  The two of you kept coming back to each other because you were meant to be together.  He – loves – you.  And you – love – him.  That’s not going to change.”_

Felicity turned away from Lyla and wrapped her arms around her body.  She knew Lyla was right.  She knew that’s why she was hurting so deeply.  She had never wanted to really fall in love or need a man – or anyone. 

But when she met Oliver Queen her life had changed.  She loved him.  She needed him.  And although she was finding ways to get by, there was a piece of her – more than one, actually – that was lost without him.

So, for the first time in two months she made an emotional plea to the ARGUS leader who held the possibility of the impossible.  _“Lyla, can I see him?  Please?  I need to feel his arms around me.  I need to see that he’s ok.  I need HIM to tell me that he loves me.  Please.  I beg you.  I’ll do anything if you’ll just let me see him.”_

Lyla took a deep breath and shook her head.  _“It’s too dangerous, for both of you.”_

_“Please,”_ Felicity cried, hurt that her friend’s first response was negative.  _“How much more dangerous can it be?  I’m on the verge of committing a crime to get myself into prison WITH him.  William and I are getting threatened every time we attempt to go out and just do something normal.  Hell, William’s probably in danger from me on a monthly basis when I’m p.m.s.’ing.  He doesn’t have Oliver here as a buffer to my hormones... and my sexual tension without my husband is skyrocketing…”_

She held her breath after that unintentional confession left her lips.  Lyla, however, didn’t seem overly phased by Felicity’s last line.

_“Please,”_ Felicity requested again, more calmly.

Lyla again shook her head but took a deep breath, obviously with something going through her mind.

_“What?”_ Felicity wondered.

Lyla held a hand in the air.  _“No,”_ Lyla shook her head again but her eyes told Felicity a different story.

And, as William walked through the door of the apartment and Lyla’s attention turned to the pre-teen who had also become family to her, Felicity felt an ounce of hope that had escaped her since Oliver had been taken away from them.

\-----

The dark colored vehicle with the tinted windows pulled up in front of the hotel unassumingly.  Until the official-looking men stepped out of the vehicle one would’ve wondered if the larger sedan was a government vehicle or just some businessman driving around town.

When they opened the back door of the car and the man with a shaved head and somewhat shaggy beard climbed out, passersby may have wondered if the car was in the correct location – a hotel and not the courthouse. 

The man wasn’t shackled or handcuffed but the various cuts and bruises on his face led curious minds to wander. 

The electronic anklet under his pants leg was the true key to identifying the man - a convicted felon with a short reprieve from his prison cell – and at the moment a man wondering why the _hell_ he was being brought to this location.

Oliver had been taught lesson after lesson in the Slabside Supermax facility.  Thus the bruises and cuts on his face, arms and back.  They weren’t any worse than he had endured in earlier years of his life.  They simply added to the number of scars that reminded him of the horrendous cards that he had been dealt. 

His one retreat, his one bit of peace, was inside the journal that he kept hidden inside the mattress of his prison cell.  It was a picture of Felicity and William - his only real reasons for living, for surviving, for having one speck of hope that perhaps someday he could return to them.

That speck grew just a little bit that morning when a prison official approached Oliver’s cell along with the two men who were now accompanying him.

_“ARGUS needs information from a previous case that had your arrow prints all over it,”_ the man had spoken, opened up the box that held the electronic monitoring device, and then waited for a guard to unlock the cell door.

_“What case?”_ Oliver had asked curiously.

_“Somebody named Kuttler or a calculator…”_ the man seemed annoyed at the question. 

He handed Oliver a plain black t-shirt, a pair of jeans and a clean pair of socks.  _“Put these on.  We’ll put the anklet on you and you go with them,”_ he pointed to the two men that looked like a duo from _Men in Black,_ minus Will Smith.

Oliver had grown used to changing with a lack of privacy so he quickly removed the prison scrubs and put on normal clothes that felt practically foreign to him. 

His heart stuttered as he thought about the name the man had mentioned.  Kuttler…Noah Kuttler…the super hacker known as the Calculator… also known as… Felicity’s now-reformed father, Oliver's father in law. 

Oliver’s stomach flip-flopped with numerous thoughts. 

John had assured him that Felicity and William were fine.  They weren’t thriving but they were fine.  They were fighting, keeping their heads above water, surviving.  But if something was happening with Noah…what if something had happened to them…what if the Dragon had gotten to them…what if…

Oliver buttoned the blue jeans after tucking his shirt in and threaded the simple leather belt through the loops.  He took several deep breaths trying to calm himself.

On the other hand…what if they were using Kuttler to get him all worked up to find himself in some kind of trap.  He hadn’t even fully healed from several other incidents.  He wasn’t sure he could take much more. 

Still, he found a way to keep his cool as he cleared his throat and let the men know that he was dressed.  The official then came back in and fit the plastic band around Oliver’s ankle. 

_“You understand, this doesn’t come off.  You damage it, we find you.  You run, we find you.  Bottom line, it may not give you an electric shock if you misbehave, but we will.  Clear enough?”_

Oliver nodded.  _“Where are you taking me?”_ The question seemed fair enough.

_“Off prison grounds,”_ the man in charge practically growled with the words.  _“ARGUS doesn’t trust our privacy apparently,”_ he snarled.

What followed was a 90 minute ride in the back of the car.  Oliver sat nervously unsure if he should fear or anticipate whatever might be coming next.

When the vehicle pulled to the curb and parked he looked out to see the front of a somewhat upscale hotel.  Again he was confused, nervous and found his heartbeat a little erratic.  Just before the guard opened his door Oliver thought about his wife and son.  He said a short prayer that whatever was happening would lead to something positive for them…instead of more heartache.

\-----

The seventh floor of the hotel was nothing overly fancy.  To Oliver it appeared the rooms might be a little larger, as there were just a few doors when they stepped off the elevator.  The guards led him to a room at the end of the hallway and inserted the electronic key.

When the green light appeared, one of the men opened the door and pointed for Oliver to go in.  They gave him a simple instruction to sit down on the sofa and wait.  The other suited man reminded him that the ankle monitor wasn’t to be removed.  And, he mentioned that they would be stationed outside that door for the entirety of Oliver’s time in the hotel room.

Oliver nodded his understanding and tried his best not to appear fearful, although he couldn’t help but wonder what was happening.  Still he followed their orders, walked into the living room area and took a seat on the couch.

As he was known to do, Oliver took in his surroundings.  It was a hotel room.  Well, it was a suite.  He was in the living room.  He leaned forward and looked down the short hallway into a bedroom where the door was open. 

Although the space appeared mostly empty, he did, relatively quickly, notice wine glasses in the kitchenette area and a pair of shoes beside the door…women’s shoes.

His breath hitched in his throat as his focus stared at the two-inch heels.  He was so completely confused at that simple sight that he didn’t notice the woman in the bathrobe who wandered out of the bathroom.

\----

Her bare feet stopped silently as did her breath when she saw him. 

Felicity stared.

There was her husband, sitting right there in front of her.  Her heart practically stopped but her tears began immediately.

“Oliver,” she barely got his name to emerge from her vocal cords.

In the next heartbeat his eyes were on her, wide, drinking her in; shocked, wondering what kind of cruel joke was being played on him…on them.

“Felicity?” he whispered, unsure if he was allowed to say her name or even be near her.

The two of them stared for long moments before attempting to make another move. 

Felicity saw the cuts on his forehead, his healing black eye and the split in his lip that she wanted to kiss so desperately to make him feel better.

Oliver noted that she too had marks on her face, testimony to struggles she had obviously endured.  And her hair…was pink…

“You look beautiful,” he spoke as calmly as he possibly could.

In return Felicity simply put a hand over her mouth, trying to hold back the sobbing cry that welled up inside of her.

With her tears, Oliver couldn’t stand sitting any longer. Orders be damned, his wife was standing a few feet away from him crying.  He needed to have her in his arms. 

So he stood from the couch and nervously walked toward her.  As soon as he wrapped his arms around her Felicity’s cry became even more uncontrollable, shaking against him.

Oliver felt her hands grasp the back of his shirt with a death grip that he much appreciated.  She didn’t want him to let go and he certainly didn’t plan to.

Not knowing why they were together, or how much time they might have with each other, Oliver also let his tears join hers.  His hands covered her back, soothingly rubbing circles with her face pressed to his chest. 

“Felicity, I love you,” he spoke against her ear, wanting her to know the number one thought of his heart. 

The two stood together without another spoken word for what seemed like hours, taking in every moment of once again having the other in their arms.

\----- 

Felicity’s cell phone chimed in the pocket of her bathrobe.  She reluctantly loosened her grip on her husband and pulled the device out to check the message. 

_“24 Hours…Conjugal visit…Guards to remain outside door.  Room service for food…wine in fridge.  Sorry it can’t be longer.”_

Felicity sniffled as she read the words a second time.  She kept her cheek pressed to Oliver’s chest, one hand still wrapped around him, not letting him see the text. 

Not that he wanted to.  His eyes were closed, his arms still holding her tightly; small kisses being brushed into her scalp.  And at long last he simply buried his nose and lips into the top of her head and held it there.

“How…” Oliver finally lifted his head just enough to try and ask.

Felicity cleared her throat of the leftover tears.  As much as Oliver hated her gravelly voice – only because he knew tears were causing the sound effect – he loved hearing her speak to him.

“Lyla…” Felicity began, her voice a bit short and to the point. 

“Why?” Oliver asked.

Felicity pulled away from him.  She stepped back and looked at the man in front of her, jeans, t-shirt, boots.  As more tears formed in her eyes Felicity felt those heart scars pulling within her chest.  She had told Lyla she didn’t want to love him anymore…but Lyla was correct – Felicity didn’t have a choice in the matter. 

“I love you,” she said plainly, not wanting to open up her heart anymore than it was already showing on the sleeve of her bathrobe and in her tear-stained eyes and the strength of her grip when his arms were wrapped around her.

“Felicity?” Oliver’s heart dropped suddenly, a new fear washing over him.  He stepped backwards enough to lean his hand against the back of the couch for support before even attempting to ask the thoughts that were beginning to form in his mind.

She watched him closely, grateful to have him in her presence but not completely sure how to proceed with their 24 hour respite.  And now, with her quaint, somewhat emotionless expression, Oliver seemed out of sorts.

“You’re leaving me,” he swallowed and pushed the words from his throat.  Nothing else would emerge as his vocal cords closed around his thought, nearly choking him.

“What?” Felicity whispered and tilted her head trying to understand.

“That’s…that’s why I’m here,” Oliver stumbled. “They said it had to do with Noah Kuttler.  It’s all just a set-up to get me here…” the tears welled in his eyes, “for you to tell me… we’re through,” he gripped the couch as firmly as he could and turned his line of sight to the floor.

“What are you talking about?” Felicity stepped toward him slowly, her eyes gaining the piercing blue tone that normally told him to stop talking before he dug his marital hole any deeper than he already had.

Oliver looked up at her without raising his chin.  He met her eyes and rightly saw a little bit of anger in them, but not for the reasons he was imagining.

“I understand,” he tried again, calmly.  “I won’t fight.  Not if this is what you want.”

Felicity stood directly in front of him, now with fire in those blue eyes.  She took two shallow breaths before pulling her right arm backwards and aiming her knuckles at his cheek.  That was the only place that she might be able to make her punch matter on Oliver’s body – well, besides his family jewels and she did want to preserve those for the time being.

When her fist met his jaw Oliver’s head jerked in a slight bit of pain but more disbelief and surprise.  Felicity whimpered with her own pain level, opened her fist and shook it.

“Felicity! What the hell?” Oliver grabbed his cheek with one hand as he opened and closed his mouth to work out the soreness.

“You’d damn well better fight,” she huffed with an emotional breath, holding her punching hand against her abdomen.

“What?” Oliver looked at her, now completely confused.

“You’d better fight for us,” Felicity’s look was harsh and yet Oliver recognized it as one of her _‘suck-it-up-and-get-over-yourself’_ gazes.

And with that Oliver stood up a little straighter, rubbed and stretched his jaw another time or two and then smiled proudly.  He reached for Felicity’s hitting hand and examined her knuckles.  After which he proceeded to softly kiss the reddened spots that were left behind.

“You didn’t keep your wrist straight,” he instructed.

“Do you want me to try again?” Felicity looked at him and asked sarcastically.

Oliver shook his head and used his slight hold on her hand to pull her towards him.  “I want you to kiss me,” he chanced. 

He tugged on her fingers a little more until he backed himself up and practically sat on the back of the sofa.  When she didn’t pull away Oliver pulled her even closer, tucking her thighs between his knees.

Felicity let her elbows rest on his shoulders, her forearms and hands hooking behind his neck.  Without a second thought her lips met his as naturally as a shining sunrise glows on the ocean. 

She had told herself, if Lyla actually could buy her some time with Oliver, she wouldn’t be overly anxious. So although their first kiss in months was far from chaste, Felicity purposefully kept it less feral than her body was requesting.

Oliver felt her holding back and allowed it, trying not to overstep his boundaries as he tried to figure out exactly what those were in this situation.

When they allowed their lips to separate, tongues tingling with a want for more in both of them, Felicity rested her forehead against his.

“Lyla got us 24 hours,” she informed Oliver with her eyes closed. 

His hands moved from her waist, wrapping around her and pulling her even closer to him.  Oliver leaned back enough to bring her face into focus.

“Then we should talk,” he looked at her seriously and swallowed to regain a bit of his composure.

“No,” Felicity played with the very short hair at the back of his neck. She quickly decided that she preferred his hair to be a little longer but the beard needed to be shorter and less shaggy.  As he was now she couldn’t run her fingers through his bangs but the growth on his cheekbones was coarse and less pet-able than she liked.

  “No?” Oliver questioned with his eyebrows.

Felicity shook her head.  “I don’t want to talk.  I don’t have any answers right now that will help either of our situations.  All I know for sure is that I miss you.  And if we have 24 hours together I don’t want to spend them talking about what if’s and what we should’ve done.”

“Then what do you want?” Oliver asked her unassumingly.

Felicity took a breath and looked at Oliver’s lips.  She didn’t want to be flirtatious and teasing.  She certainly didn’t like the idea of a one night stand.  However, in their current situation it was one night, with her husband, all to herself.  And, God knew when or if she would ever get this opportunity again. 

That thought nearly made her tears begin again.

She sucked in a deep, shaky breath and licked her lips.  “I want you to take me into the bedroom.  I want to undress you and see every mark on your body.  I want you to make love to me and remind me that you’re my husband and that no matter what we are going through you’re going to fight for us.  I’m fighting Oliver.  I’m not done fighting and neither are you.  But I need to know that you’re still mine and that you aren’t giving up on us.”

“Never,” Oliver’s eyes reiterated to his wife everything she had just said to him.  “But Felicity,” his eyes wavered and he looked down at her hands that had come to rest on his pectoral muscles.  “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t,” Felicity used a fingertip to raise his face up meeting her eyes.  She shook her head and gently stretched her chin to let their lips meet again.  “Make love to me Oliver.”

He nodded once, understanding her simple instruction. 

Oliver wasn’t sure if it was pride for her strength, simply being back in her presence again, or the act of lifting his wife into his arms and cradling her against his body, but he finally felt a surge of his old self moving through his body.

His Felicity wanted him still.  She wanted him to fight and was willing to wage that war as well.  He was proud of her – extremely proud.  But even more than that he felt a love for her that soothed every wavering thought in his mind.

Both knew this was one night for them.  So, as Felicity was doing, Oliver put the questions and facts to the back of his mind. 

In their place came the pleasures of the next few hours that would last them as long as they needed to. 

Oliver gasped and felt the amazing tremor move like a wave over his entire body.  His wife’s shallow breathing slowly eased into a normal, rhythmic sound with whispered, _“I love you’s,”_ escaping several times from her lips.

“Thank you,” Oliver nestled against her naked body taking in her feel, her scent, her everything. 

“For what?” Felicity laughed through a sigh, still trying to regain her normal breathing pattern.

“For fighting,” Oliver answered simply, snuggling his face against her collarbone.

Felicity bit on her bottom lip to hold back the tears forming in her eyes and throat. 

In just a few hours they would be back to square one, practically.  Oliver would return to prison, Felicity would return to William and their small apartment.  Yet at the least they had these 24 hours together. 

She would thank Lyla, as would Oliver.  Not just for a conjugal visit, but for the opportunity to regain their combined strength and their joint effort to fight…for us.

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
